


Divided

by Lady_Gallatea_Ravenclaw



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League - All Media Types, Justice League of America (Comics), Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Harry is Half-Kryptonian, Post-Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2019-08-05 06:17:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16362467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Gallatea_Ravenclaw/pseuds/Lady_Gallatea_Ravenclaw
Summary: Another Kryptonian baby was sent to Earth and survived... until he died at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Now his son, the first half-Kryptonian, is coming into his powers and has questions for the Last Son of Krypton.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters in the DC Universe. Those belong specifically to JK Rowling and DC Comics, respectively. I just like to play in their sandboxes in my free time and hopefully entertain people, while making zero dollars.

Light years away from a world called Earth, a scientist feverishly slaved over the miniature spaceship in front of her. Just as she pressed a button, engaging the engine of the ship and activating the lift drive, the world began to tremble around her.

"Fal! Come quickly!" she cried into the intercom. "I've done it!"

A man with grey hair to match his wife's strode in, a bouncing infant in his arms. He stopped next to her, staring at the ship with apprehension and relief. "You did it," he breathed, dropping a kiss on her head.

"Did you have doubts?" she asked wryly as she triggered the door to unlock with a hiss. It revealed a small cockpit, designed for one tiny passenger.

"Never." The man shot a smile at his wife that quickly soured into a frown when his boy babbled and waved his tiny fist. "Must we really send him away? You know Jor, he tends to jump to conclusions—"

"Whatever quarrels I have had with Jor-El in the past, he is right about this," said the woman firmly. "Krypton is dying. I've seen the data myself, but none of it means a thing to the Council." She shook her head and abandoned the spacecraft to curl into her husband's side. "I just thank Rao that Jor asked me to look over his 'hypothetical plans' for a rocket ship." She ran a hand gently through the boy's hair. It stubbornly defied gravity and perked back up messily. "His curiosity will save my son."

Another tremor shook the planet and they heard a crash as something broke in the other room.

"I wish we could go with him."

"We can't put it off any longer," she said, meeting her husband's eyes.

"Surely not yet," he protested, dipping to brush his cheek against his son's head.

"Do you think I want to part from my child?" her voice cracked. "We can't wait until the very last second," she argued. "The ship is ready now and if we wait…anything could happen. We have to save him while we still can."

The baby whined as his father pressed him closer, wrapping strong arms around the toddler's back. The older man kissed him and murmured words of love to his baby boy, his voice choking with effort. He then passed the baby to his wife, who gave him the same treatment. Finally, she settled the boy, blanket and all into the spaceship.

The toddler looked around curiously, his hands reaching out for the bright buttons on the console. The woman smiled and held him back, carefully strapping the boy in, and putting his hands out of reach.

"Will he be all right?" her husband asked anxiously, wringing his hands. "It's a long journey and he doesn't have anything to eat or to play with—"

"Once I close the hatch, I will activate the stasis field," his wife stated soothingly, pressing several buttons on the console. "It will keep him safe, frozen in time, until the ship interacts with another planet's atmosphere."

The ship's door shut, sealing their son inside and putting him to sleep. They watched with watery eyes as the ship angled and the bay doors opened for the launch.

"What about this planet?" he asked. "Will he be safe?"

"Jor-El selected a good planet," she said, wrapping an arm around her husband's waist. "It has a yellow sun, plenty of resources and a thriving population of sentient beings that closely resemble Kryptonians. He will be safe there."

And with that, the ship's thrusters ignited, pushing the space ship out of the doors and into the sky. The two solemn parents watched as their baby hurtled off into space, breaking through the atmosphere and easily slipping into the darkness of space.

As the two parents cried together, another two ships flew off into the darkness of space, shortly before the planet shook itself apart and was destroyed.

Millions of light-years away and an untold amount of time later, the first Kryptonian ship crashed onto a planet called Earth. It landed on the grounds of a large estate maintained by an austere, childless couple.

Minutes after the ship crashed right through the delicate rose beds, a small pop indicated the arrival of a small creature with large ears. Its bulbous eyes widened when it heard the protesting cries of a small child from within the ship.

It stood there, staring, until a burst of wind and thudding feet signaled the arrival of its master.

"Jarby, what is it?" the man asked, staring at the hunk of metal. It was scratched and dented in many places, but the long and oddly shaped craft was still in one piece. The sounds coming from it, however, were more familiar. "Is that a child?"

"Yes, Master," the house-elf squeaked. "What does Master want Jarby do?"

"Go get Euphemia," he ordered. The house-elf bowed low and then disappeared with a crack.

The man frowned and waved his wand. Nothing happened. "Alohamora," he called out, waving again. When the nothing changed, he frowned and attempted several other spells, to no avail. At last, he slammed a fist against the side of the ship, cursing it and its creators. His touch, however, seemed to be enough.

The hatch unlocked, letting out a sharp hiss of air. The man watched with bated breath as the object opened to reveal a small boy. His breath caught in his throat as the boy stopped crying, staring at him with soft hazel eyes. Immediately, the man felt his heart seize and sputter into new life.

He barely noticed climbing over the wreckage or reaching in to pull the child into his arms. Nor did he notice as his wife hurried to him, the house-elf dogging her ankles.

"Fleamont—!" she exclaimed, before her own voice caught in her throat. A little boy, one she had wanted for so long, called to her from her husband's arms. Soon enough, the two adults stood together with the boy sandwiched between them.

"Well dear, what do you think?" the man murmured to his wife. "We've always wanted a boy of our own."

"Yes, but Fleamont," she spluttered, eyes wide. "He's probably got a family somewhere… a mother who's missing him!"

The man shook his head, pointing at the pile of metal behind them. "If he has a family, they must have sent him away," he said in a low tone.

Euphemia's hand flew to her mouth. "Do you think… is he a Muggle?"

"Perhaps," Fleamont said, readjusting his grip on the wriggling boy, "but would it matter?" His eyes shone. "We're not getting any older, my love, and we have yearned for a child for so long. Perhaps this is fate's way of delivering us a son!"

"Won't it be cruel, Fleamont?" she argued. "Bringing him into this world of magic that he can never be a part of? He'll be written off as a Squib! What kind of life is that for a child?"

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it, love," Fleamont reasoned, flapping a hand. "There's still a chance he could have magic — he made it through the wards, after all." He raised an eyebrow. "Besides, we have enough gold. He wouldn't have to work a day in his life and there'd still be enough to watch over his children."

Euphemia shook her head. "And what of our world? When they find out we've adopted a boy…" she swallowed, running a hand through the baby's soft hair. "They will not treat him with kindness."

"Then we do not tell them," Fleamont said firmly. Euphemia shot him a look. "We have not ventured into the public eye since I retired from the business," he pointed out. "And we hardly have reporters at our doorstep." He smiled, rubbing his hand along the boy's back as he fussed. "Trust me; no one will say a thing when we belatedly announce the birth of our son."

Fleamont gently passed the baby to his wife's arms and instantly her uncertain expression melted. Euphemia smiled and cuddled the warm being to her chest. The baby grasped at her with firm hands and she felt her heart swell with love.

"I trust you, my love," she murmured at last, leaning into her husband.

Jarby stared at his family and then at the little Muggle boy nestled comfortably in his mistress's arms. The little human radiated little more than his own life force — though strong, he had no magic. Not even a drop.

The Potters were good masters and Jarby did not want them to be sad. No matter what Master Fleamont said, they would be sad that the little Master did not have magic. Master Fleamont was kind and good to house-elves and protected them when bad people tried to hurt them. Jarby wanted to do something for Master Fleamont… and there was nothing his master wanted more than a son. So Jarby did what house-elves are never supposed to do — he meddled in the affairs of great wizards.

He snapped his fingers and watched golden threads of light extend from both Potters into the child between them. Those threads twined and absorbed into the baby's body, merging with his spinal cord and imbuing that fragile body with magic. Time would allow the donation to grow and merge fully with the child's growing body. In eleven years, when the boy left for Hogwarts, he would be indistinguishable from the other children born with magic.

Jarby couldn't help the satisfied grin that took over his whole face as he watched his happy family walk back into the manor. The Potter family finally had an heir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Welcome! To new readers, I hope you enjoyed this first snippet of my fic and that you'll stick around for more!
> 
> Thanks again for stopping by and reading!


	2. The Third Task

Harry stood there on shaky legs, arm trembling as he held the tenuous golden connection between Voldemort's wand and his own. Shadows prowled around the edge of the cage, drowned out by the buzz and hum in his ears. Harry's parents were a reassuring presence at his shoulder.

"Now, Harry! Go!" his dad yelled. With a sharp jerk, Harry wrenched his wand away.

He dropped to the ground and bolted straight for the cup. Spells hurtled at him, missing by inches. Voldemort's roar of rage erupted behind him and his scar blazed to life, blinding him momentarily. He tripped over Cedric's body, falling on top of him.

Harry grasped for the cup, but it was lying in the dirt, just out of reach.

"Avada Kedavra!" "Accio cup!"

The two voices blended together, Harry's fingers reaching for the cup ... until something slammed into Harry's back and made everything go dark.

When he woke up, he was in a white place. He blinked slowly and sat up, staring around him at the void.

"Hello?" he called. "Where am I?"

An image began to form, gradually out of a white mist that surrounded him. King's Cross. It was an empty platform. He heard a cry and turned to look, only to pull back in disgust. Under one of the benches was a baby, ugly and rotting.

The sight of the baby jump-started his brain and he stared down at himself. "Where are my clothes?"

Instantly, he was wearing jeans and a Weasley jumper. "Erm, thanks?" he offered, peering around the oddly clean platform. Then, a deep laugh made him jump and swivel.

"Easy, son," said James Potter with a beaming smile. "Long time no see."

"Dad?" Harry gasped. "What? How?"

"Don't forget me," his mum said as she appeared at his side. "Oh, look how handsome you are!" Harry flushed red at her praise.

"Erm, thanks," he said, "but what's going on? How am I here?"

Both his parents frowned. "You're here because of that," James said, pointing at a twisted infant under a bench.

"What is that?" he asked, almost dreading the answer.

"A piece of Voldemort's soul," his mother said, curling her lip in disgust. "He left it behind when he tried to kill you all those years ago."

"You mean... that's been _inside_ of me all this time?" Harry felt bile rise up in his throat.

"Yes," his dad said, clasping his shoulder with a firm hand, "but not anymore. Not if you choose to go back."

"Go back?" Harry repeated slowly. Then he froze. "I'm dead." His parents looked stricken. "Voldemort's Killing Curse—"

"—killed that thing," his dad interrupted, wrapping Harry in a hug.

"Sweetie, you have a choice," his mother added, joining the hug. "You could stay with us here and then, yes, you will be dead. Or, you could go back, letting that thing die in your place, and you'd live."

Harry was silent, basking in the warmth of strong arms around him. To stay with them, with these arms forever, was so tempting... but then his mind flashed to Ron, Hermione and Sirius.

"If I choose to stay," he started, "will Voldemort still be there?"

"Yes," James muttered through clenched teeth.

Harry bit his lip. "Then I have to go back," he decided. "Not just because of him, but for everyone else too."

His parents squeezed him again, resignation written across their faces. He felt the pair of kisses they dropped on his head and tried to commit the hug into memory.

"When you go back," his mum said, "give Sirius and Remus our love."

"And tell Sirius that if he ever gets his act together, he has to remember 'Elvendork'", his father added with a wicked grin. "I'm holding him to it."

"Elvendork?" Harry repeated bemusedly. His mother rolled her eyes fondly.

"He knows."

"Harry," his mum interrupted. He craned his head to look up at her. "Never doubt that we love you with all of our hearts. Okay? We are _so_ proud of you."

James squeezed his shoulder warmly. "Your mother is right, my boy," he said. "You've done well and are growing into a man I couldn't be more proud to call my son."

"Thanks dad, mum," Harry said, his eyes watering. "I miss you."

"We miss you too," his mum said, kissing his forehead.

The family stood silently, cherishing their last moments together.

"I should go," Harry admitted, slowly peeling from his mum's side. "If I don't, I'll never leave."

His parents clung to each other, letting Harry stand alone.

"Bye mum. Bye dad," Harry said with a wave.

"Goodbye son," his dad said hoarsely. "Live your life. You'll be amazing."

"We love you, Harry!" his mum added. "Take care of yourself and be good!"

Harry felt himself fade away as everything went white.

"Should we have told him?" a woman asked.

A deeper voice answered. "He'll find out soon enough."

* * *

The first thing he noticed was the smell of damp grass in his nose and the water that was already seeping into the front of his robes. Then the roar of the crowed around him reached his ears, making his head pound.

"Harry!" a firm hand grasped his shoulder and turned him over. Dumbledore's bespectacled face swam in front of him. "Harry!"

Harry released the cup and scrabbled for his headmaster's wrist. It was bony and warm, but so delicate, at the same time.

"He's back," Harry whispered. "Voldemort's back."

Before Dumbledore could respond, Cornelius Fudge appeared upside down over Harry and shouted about Cedric. The crowd went mad.

* * *

"And then my dad told me to run," Harry said, recounting the events in the graveyard. "Cedric asked me... asked me to bring his body back." His voice caught in his throat and failed.

Sirius sat there with his head in his hands and Fawkes flew down to the floor to cry on Harry's injured leg. As the skin healed, the phoenix flew back up to his perch and the teenager swallowed roughly.

"I will say it again," Dumbledore said. "You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight, Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it — and you have now given us all that we have a right to expect. You will come with me—"

"Professor," Harry said abruptly. "There's more."

"More?" Sirius repeated, pulling his head out of his hands.

Harry nodded and Dumbledore sat back down patiently. The teenager licked his lips. "I know this is going to sound mad, so please just hear me out," he started. "After I ran and grabbed Cedric's b-body, I couldn't reach the cup. Voldemort and the Death Eaters were firing curses and I must have summoned the cup just a little too late, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up somewhere else."

"The Quidditch Pitch?" Sirius offered, tilting his head.

Harry shook his head. "King's Cross, I think," he said wryly. "Though it wasn't really King's Cross. There was this weird deformed baby under a bench, and Sirius ... I saw my _parents_." Both men froze. "It wasn't like before, with the wands. They were real, solid. We talked, they hugged me." Harry's voice wavered and his lip quivered. "Mum sends her love to you and Lupin," he said, clearing his throat, "and dad said something about Elvendork? He said he's holding you to it and that you'd understand?"

Sirius's mouth fell open at that, a watery laugh escaping his lips. He almost seemed to fall apart at that, alternatively hugging himself and then Harry.

Dumbledore was leaning back in his chair, like he'd been hit with something solid to the gut and was struggling to recover. "The baby, Harry," he said slowly, "did your parents tell you what it was?"

Harry shrugged. "They said it was a piece of Voldemort's soul," he said. "That it had been in my head all this time. When I chose to come back, they said it would die instead of me."

Sirius gripped him harder at that and Harry turned to pat him on the back. He completely missed seeing Dumbledore sag with relief.

"That is a most incredible tale, Harry," said Dumbledore, when Sirius released Harry at last. "Forgive me, though, as I think we should keep your miraculous visit with your parents to ourselves." His face grew wary. "It would not do to let the wrong ears hear about your return from the dead."

Harry nodded seriously before muffling a yawn behind his hand.

Dumbledore nodded. "Come. It is long past time we get you to the hospital wing for some rest and perhaps a Sleeping Potion. Sirius, would you like to stay with him?"

And with that, the motley trio headed out of the office and to the Hospital Wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Short, I know. Sorry about that. These first couple of bits help set up where we're going over the next few chapters, so it is all necessary. Thank you so much to all the people who have left kudos on this story so far!
> 
> Please keep reading and I hope to post the next chapter in another week or so.


	3. Super-Muggles

Morning dawned, hot and bright, two weeks into the summer term. Harry's green eyes flickered open as birds twittered outside his window and Hedwig clucked a greeting from her cage.

"Morning Hedwig," Harry cheered, throwing her a grin. "How was your night?" His owl clicked her beak and tucked her head under her wing in response. "That well?"

The teenager padded over to the window and leaned against it, feeling the warmth of the sun on the sill. He took a deep breath and smiled.

He went to his closet and rifled through for some clean trousers. Slipping them on, Harry frowned when he realised that they were too short by a couple of inches. He tried on a few more pairs and found that they were all too short, even the pairs that usually had to be rolled up a few times to fit. His school trousers were entirely too short, by almost five inches, despite having fit just two weeks earlier.

"Well, look at that, Hedwig!" Harry cheered, appreciating his newfound height in the mirror. "I'm finally growing!"

She hooted lowly at him as he grabbed the longest pair of trousers he had. "'Night Hedwig," he said, as he grabbed a mostly clean shirt and threw it over his head. "I'll see you later."

When Harry entered the kitchen, he ignored his aunt in favour of grabbing something to eat. He sat down at the table and lifted a fork to start eating when he caught her sneering at him.

"What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't take that tone with me, boy," she snapped. Aunt Petunia sniffed and took her plate to the sink.

Harry ate quickly, hoping to make a break for it before his aunt decided she had chores for him to do—

"I won't have you wandering off and wasting the day." Too late. "The garden needs weeding and watering," she commanded.

"Yes Aunt Petunia," he mumbled between mouthfuls of toast.

"And change your trousers before you go out," she said with a disdainful sniff. "The neighbours will think we don't give you clothes!"

Harry tactfully held back the comment that she was the one to give him those clothes in the first place. "I haven't got anything longer," he admitted, cheeks reddening. "I guess I grew a lot."

She huffed. "Well, let me just take a look. I'm sure I have something of Dudley's that should be long enough."

His aunt swept out of the kitchen, muttering about freaks and growth spurts, and up the stairs to Dudley's room.

Harry took the opportunity to fill his plate with seconds and gobbled down as much as he could. He'd been ravenous since returning home from school and Dudley's diet food just was not cutting it.

His aunt came down about three-quarters into his second plate, empty-handed and sour. "Get your shoes on," she barked.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

In response, she snatched his plate out from under his fork and set it in the sink with a heavy thunk. She eyed him with a nasty look that could have curdled milk. "Now."

Harry darted out of his seat and ran up to his room to grab his trainers. He was downstairs in a trice and met his impatient aunt at the door. She didn't say a word, still fuming, until they were in the car and driving down to the market. Unlike his uncle, Aunt Petunia didn't rant. She kept quiet, stewing and boiling her insults until they spurted out in one long, poisonous tirade.

They arrived at the store in fifteen minutes and Harry hopped out of the car, finally getting a sense of what was happening. His aunt hadn't been able to find any old clothes of Dudley's that were long enough for him to wear, so she'd had to take him out to buy new clothes. Hence why they were at the local Oxfam.

As they walked in, Harry looked around in interest at the slightly worn clothes on the racks. They weren't new — there was no universe in which his aunt would ever buy him new clothes — but they were certainly much cleaner and nicer than Dudley's hand-me-downs. He even felt a thread of excitement at the thought of finally getting some Muggle clothes that would actually fit him.

His aunt led him to a rack of men's trousers and she started rifling through them. Harry looked idly at the selection, appreciating the snappy black trousers and the artfully faded blue jeans. He didn't dare, however, select anything for himself — his aunt's sour mood was only getting worse and he was a little afraid that she would start shouting if he asked for something.

So he followed her around silently, letting her pull out trousers and hold them up to his body to measure the length. Some swam about his shins, others dragged on the floor, but one or two hit his ankles perfectly.

When she put a pair that looked nice and ended neatly at his ankles back on the rack, Harry blurted out, "Wouldn't that one work, Aunt Petunia? It looks like the right fit."

"Because, you stupid boy," she hissed back nastily, "I'm not made of money." She pulled out a pair that were four or five inches too long and added them to the pile. "You can make do until you grow into them."

Harry held back a sigh and resigned himself to rolling up his trousers for the foreseeable future. He looked at a load of shirts to waste time while his aunt plowed through the trouser rack. Some had silly sayings or references to shows on the telly that Dudley watched. Others had these odd symbols or crests on them, like one with a bat and another with a red and yellow S. Harry quite liked the red and yellow shirts, though he would have preferred to have a G-shaped symbol instead of the S.

"Superman fan, huh?" a girl asked, looking over at the shirt he was holding. She was pretty, but her ears, nose and lip were covered with several painful-looking piercings. Harry tried not to stare at how that metal bar was forced through her bottom lip in two places. It looked a tad barbaric.

"Er," he mumbled, looking confusedly between the girl and the shirt.

She didn't seem to need an answer. "He's not as popular as Batman, but he's definitely a favourite," she sighed, browsing through the shirts. "I'm a Wonder Woman kind of girl, myself," she said, pulling out a shirt with two straight lines and a circle drawn in green, "but it's so hard to find her shirts. I usually end up getting Green Lantern's, because at least a brother represents, you know?"

"Yes?" he returned blankly.

"... You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Harry huffed a laugh. "Not in the slightest," he admitted, grinning sheepishly. "Who're these people?"

"Superman, Batman, the Flash, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter, the greatest superheroes the world has ever known," the girl said. "You know, the Justice League!"

He slowly shook his head, eyes wide. "Is this show on the telly?" he asked hesitantly.

She threw him an odd look. "The Justice League," she said, reaching over to a small spinning rack to grab a magazine. On the cover was a group of six people dressed in lurid costumes, holding weapons, standing at a ceremony. "They're the American superheroes that saved the planet from an alien invasion last year?"

Harry took the magazine and flipped through it to see the article explaining who the heroes were and what they could do. He stared with wide eyes at the pictures of the heroes flying in the air and punching holes in giant machines. Were they Muggles or secretly wizards in disguise? How did their powers work? Did Dumbledore know about them? Did Voldemort?

The girl watched him flip through the magazine, an incredulous expression on her face. "You seriously have never heard of them before?! Do you live under a rock?"

"Boarding school, actually," Harry said, flipping back to the cover to take another look at the heroes and their costumes. "It's remote. _Very_ remote."

"Boy, stop dawdling!" his aunt barked, moving up to the sales lady with an armful of clothes.

"I've got to go," Harry said apologetically, handing back the magazine. "Thanks!" He hurried off after his aunt, hovering beside her as she paid, and then carried the bag to the car, all the while wishing that he could've bought that magazine.

* * *

 

During the silent ride back to Privet Drive, Harry couldn't help but wonder about the costumed heroes. He had so many questions and for the first time this summer, his mind was spinning with curiosity related to something other than Voldemort.

The moment his aunt stopped the car in the driveway, Harry bolted out the door, taking his clothes up to his room. She shouted at his back about the yard but he smoothly ignored her. Once in his room, he dumped the bags on the floor and dived for the piles of old _Daily Prophet_ issues in the corner.

His uncle refused to let him throw the newspapers in the bin, worried that the moving pictures and obvious signs of magic would contaminate their normal garbage, so Harry had been saving them to chuck when he returned to Hogwarts. This proved lucky as Harry diligently searched each paper for information on the costumed heroes. Certainly the _Prophet_ would've mentioned them _somewhere_.

But after throwing the last issue down in disgust, Harry had to admit that the Wizarding World had completely ignored the existence of the American superheroes. There was nothing, not even commentary on the Muggle fashion of lurid tights and capes that was frankly odd, even for wizards.

Sitting at his desk, Harry pulled out a sheet of parchment, already mentally composing a letter to Hermione to see what she thought about it all. Just as he laid quill tip to paper, however, his aunt screeched from below.

"Boy, get down here and start your chores!"

Rolling his eyes, Harry dropped his quill and got up, not wanting to test his luck. He hurried down the stairs and met his aunt at the bottom.

"The flowerbeds need weeding and watering," his aunt said nastily, "and the lawn needs to be mowed. Go on, get out! I don't want to see you until supper time!"

Harry slouched out the door and winced at the heavy, blistering heat. The Dursley's front yard was fully exposed to the sunlight, meaning he would most certainly be getting sunburned and sweaty this afternoon. With a heavy sigh, he started his chores.

As he was tending to the rose bushes under the sitting room window, he heard his aunt switch on the television. When the familiar sound of the news show starting hit his ears, he deliberately slowed his pace and turned his attention to the show.

If wizards didn't know what the superheroes were doing, he'd have to hear what the Muggles had to say then.

"…Late this morning, the United Nations unanimously approved a charter for the newly-formed Justice League, comprised of the American superheroes Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter and Hawkgirl. The charter gives the group the legal authority to perform life-saving and peace-keeping operations in UN-affiliated countries around the globe," said the news anchor. "The non-affiliated Bialyan government under Queen Bee leads an outcry against the charter, protesting that it interferes with their country's sovereignty, and that any actions of the Justice League within their borders will amount to an act of war."

When the segment ended and the news switched to discussing celebrity breakups, Harry flopped onto his back on the grass and heaved a sigh. It wasn't much, but at least the Muggle news proved that the Muggle superheroes were actually real. Staring up at the sky, Harry let his mind wander as he soaked in the warm rays of the sun.

It was a bit silly, when he thought about it, that he'd been so obsessed with finding out about Muggle superheroes. Their powers were fairly fantastic, but there wasn't much that they could do that magic couldn't. Harry sighed. It would be nice to have heroes like that on their side. People who cared about saving innocents and stopping Voldemort.

He imagined fighting the dark wizard and the Death Eaters alongside the brightly costumed Muggles for a moment, but then Harry frowned. It was nice to dream, but he didn't even know how the Muggles would fare against magic. What if, for all their powers and skills, they were as defenceless as all the other Muggles?

Harry sighed and sat up, shaking the dirt out of his hair. It had been a nice holiday, to have something to think about other than Voldemort, but he couldn't let those garishly costumed Muggles distract him. Voldemort was up to something and Harry had to stay focused. He had no time for fanciful men in tights, as long as Voldemort was still out there.

The young wizard got to his feet and moved on with his chores, determined to set the superheroes from his mind for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to all of the people who liked, faved and reviewed Divided so far! I'm so pleased with the response it has gotten. This is a bit of a filler chapter, but things will start getting crazy in the next one. It's a bit of a massive Chapter 3 and I ended up writing about 7k words for it. Chapter 3 is done and is mostly ready to post, but as Chapter 4 is based on 3, I want to finish the former before I publish the latter. It'll help the flow if I don't have to go back and edit something that changed later!
> 
> So thanks again for reading and telling me what you think! I'm hoping to finish Chapter 4 soon and as soon as I start on the fifth chapter, I'll post chapter 3. I can't wait for you all to read it - it's truly some of my best work to date.
> 
> Happy Wednesday!


	4. Superman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry dips to London and finds some trouble... naturally. :)

Harry had made a solid effort to set his mind on Voldemort and focus on finding out what he was planning. Unfortunately, his friends and Sirius were less than helpful, and neither the _Daily Prophet_ nor the Muggle news had any hints to share.

It took two weeks before the boredom of Privet Drive and the lack of anything substantial for Harry to run off to London. At first, he'd planned to use his Invisibility Cloak to sneak into Diagon Alley in the hopes that he'd hear something about Voldemort, but halfway through the bus ride from Surrey to London, he sheepishly realised how stupid that was.

He was number one on Voldemort's most wanted list — Diagon Alley was probably the least safe place for him to be. So when the bus let him off in London, Harry deliberately wandered away from Charing Cross Road, deciding that he may as well see something of the city before he returned to Privet Drive. He was already there, after all.

Harry ended up walking towards Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery. The Square was bustling with people, mostly Muggle tourists, and he idly watched as they took pictures of the famous landmark. He only had a few more of the pounds he'd nicked from Dudley left, which he'd need to get home if he didn't want to get gold from Gringotts, so he found a nice bench near Nelson's column and decided to people-watch while he soaked in the summer sun.

Not too many people loitered nearby, as the heat and bright light were blistering in the unseasonably warm weather, but Harry cheerfully sat on that bench for some time, not even sweating.

Perhaps someone would have noticed the odd behaviour or at least commented on how the boy's pale skin didn't even show the slightest touch of pink from sunburn, if it wasn't for what happened next.

The National Gallery exploded. Or rather, something within the National Gallery exploded, causing the large columns to shake and crumble to the ground. Harry watched in horror from his bench as people screamed and ran from the shadow of the falling, austere building. Clouds of smoke, dust and ash billowed from somewhere inside the museum, and the ground shook with thunderous crashes, until something was thrown through the front wall.

It tumbled through the air, a blur of blue and red, until it came to a stop, hovering just above the Square's famous fountain. As the being righted himself and his red cape whipped out behind him, Harry's jaw dropped. Superman.

The luridly costumed Muggle disappeared in a blink, and only the red blur followed by a resounding crash inside the museum were evidence of his departure. Harry jolted out of his seat, hand on his wand. He stood stock still, unsure if he should help or run. There was hardly anything he could do, as an untrained wizard in the middle of Muggle London, but when he saw a screaming toddler sitting on the ground all by himself, Harry couldn't do nothing.

He hurried through the crowd, trying not to get run over, and didn't stop until he was crouched down next to the little boy.

"Hey, it's okay," he said, gently grasping the kid's hand. "I'm Harry, what's your name?"

"M-M-Mikey,"the child hiccuped, rivulets of tears streaming down his face. "Where's my mummy?"

Harry shook his head. "I dunno, Mikey," he admitted, "but I'm going to help you find her, alright?"

The little boy held out his arms trustingly and the teenager gingerly lifted the child into his arms. Harry stood and suddenly realised that he had no idea where to start searching for the boy's mother.

"Mikey, do you know your mummy's name?" he asked hopefully, looking around for a frantic woman.

"Her name's Mummy," the boy said, a confused expression on his face. "Duh."

"Of course it is," Harry muttered under his breath, as he shifted the boy more securely onto his hip.

There was another ground-shaking explosion from the National Gallery and Superman was tossed again, this time to make a deep furrow down the middle of Trafalgar Square.

"Right, time to go," Harry said hurriedly, holding Mikey close. He moved toward the exit, where several policemen were directing the fleeing people away from the square.

Harry barely made it two feet when there was another crash. This time, a bright beam of light plowed through the fountain they'd been standing in front of just a moment before, severing the tall stone column from its base. The teen froze in horror as the column fell in their direction. It moved as if in slow motion toward them, looming and casting a giant shadow over their bodies.

Harry's mind whirled as he saw the column fall towards them. There was no time to draw his wand, not with Mikey in his arms. His feet were rooted in place and despite his brain screaming at his legs to move, they refused to do anything. Instinctively, Harry turned his torso away from the column, exposing his curled back. He held Mikey firmly against his chest and braced for impact.

The column smashed down against his body, but instead of pinning him to the ground and trapping him under its weight, the thick stone shattered against his back. Harry felt the thick pieces of stone crumble against his skin and then fall to the ground in chunks and pebbles. Dust clouds billowed around them as Harry shakily stood to his full height.

While it had saved their lives, he'd just used accidental magic—in plain view of a city full of Muggles, no less. Harry probably would have been sick then and there, but Mikey cried plaintively in his arms, gaining his attention.

"Are you alright, Mikey?" the wizard asked, noting the dull silence in the Square. The dust had settled enough that he could see the Muggles standing at the edges of the square, curious and suspicious faces all staring at them. Harry gulped.

The boy sniffled and nodded, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck again. "'Re you a sooper-hero, Harry?" he asked, looking at the crumbled pieces of the column with wide eyes.

Harry shook his head, lost for words, when the giant blue-and-red Superman himself landed in front of them.

"Are you boys okay?" he asked, his face pinched in worry.

"I'm okay, Mr. Superman!" Mikey exclaimed, before Harry could get a word in. "Harry is a sooper-hero too, he saved me! Did you beat the bad guy? I wish I could fly like you!Are you going to find my mummy?"

Superman smiled indulgently at Mikey, but his sharp eyes shot calculating looks at Harry. "I'm glad to hear that, son. Yes, I stopped the bad man from hurting other people and I'll do my best to help you find your mother. Now, do you know your mommy's name?"

"Mummy," the boy answered with an unimpressed stare.

"Right," the large hero said sheepishly, throwing an amused look at Harry. "Well, could you tell us your name or maybe where you live?"

The boy screwed up his expression. "My name is Mikey Hanson and I live at home," he said at last.

"Okay," Superman said easily, cocking his head strangely.

Harry stared at the man blankly while the hero stared into space, as if he was listening for something. He had half-a-mind to walk away and hand Mikey over to a policeman, when Superman shook himself and straightened.

"I found your mommy, Mikey," he said cheerily, a smile spreading across his lips. "Let's get you to her."

Before Harry could protest, Mikey jumped into the hero's arms. The big man caught him easily and swung the boy onto his hip. Then, before Harry could hurry off, Superman wrapped his other arm around the teen wizard's waist and lifted off the ground.

It was very odd to be taking flight in this way, as it was so unlike using his broom or his short-lived trip on the back of a hippogriff. Superman flew effortlessly, smoothly gliding through the air unaided, his cape flapping in the breeze. There was no bumping or catching currents. It was smoother than his broom, though a bit slower, and they didn't go very high up in the air.

Mikey squealed with joy and giggled as his hair flopped into his face. Harry couldn't fight the pleased grin that stole over his face at the feel of flying again, even if it was by superhero. All too soon, they were landing on the other side of the square, in front a giant crowd of Muggles all whispering and pointing their fingers at them.

Harry felt ill watching them all stare at him like that. Had they seen him use magic? His eyes darted around frantically as he searched for the Ministry Aurors and Obliviators who were surely somewhere in the crowd by now... until Mikey shouted loudly next to his ear.

"Mummy!"

Superman released Harry and carried the little boy to a sobbing woman, who clutched her boy close, sputtering out profuse thanks to the Man of Steel.

Harry tuned them out, thoroughly glad that he wasn't being half-squeezed to death by the woman, when he caught Superman's sheepish deflection.

"… can't take credit for it all. This young man actually did most of the rescuing," Superman said, gesturing to Harry.

Before he could blink, Harry was squeezed firmly by the woman. He blushed furiously and fended off her thanks, flushing when she kissed his cheek. The older hero's lips twitched at the teen's expression but wisely kept silent. Eventually, the woman went on her way, determined to have her son checked out by the paramedics, leaving Harry with Superman.

"So..." Harry started, avoiding the man's suddenly intent gaze, "I, er, should get going. Um, thanks for helping with Mikey."

He turned on his heel, fully intent on disappearing into the crowd, when he felt a firm hand grip his shoulder.

"Easy, son," Superman's deep voice intoned. "I think—"

What Superman wanted to say was cut off as an overwhelmingly icy chill swept over them. Suddenly, the hot summer heat disappeared, the sun in the sky went dark, the sounds of the bustling city died around them, and Harry saw his breath form an icy cloud when he exhaled. He shivered, the cold reaching deep inside his bones, and his eyes widened with recognition when he started hearing the faint sound of screaming.

Superman gasped and collapsed to his knees next to Harry, and many of the Muggles were looking pale and shaky on their feet. Children were crying and the wizard ignored the confused cries as he searched for the familiar black cloaks.

There. Two Dementors broke through the crowd, Muggles dropping to the ground in their wake. Harry pulled out his wand and held it shakily in front of him.

" _Ex-Expecto patronum_!" Harry said, trying to focus on happy memories as the cold swept over him and a cold, high-pitched laugh grew louder in his ears. " _Expecto patronum!"_

Faint silver smoke spread out from his wand, but the Dementor just swept it aside. Harry stumbled back as he waved his wand, trying to _concentrate—_

 _"Expecto patronum."_ Harry tripped and fell backwards. He scrambled away as much as he could, until his back pressed up against a wall. " _Expecto_ —" He could smell the Dementor's putrid breath as it leaned into its face.

Harry couldn't think, the hopelessness sweeping over him as the Dementor grabbed his neck, pulling him close.

He heard Voldemort's voice in his ears. " _Bow to death, Harry... It might even be painless... I would not know... I have never died.._."

The Dementor's mouth closed on his. _This is it_ , Harry thought. He was never going to see Ron or Hermione ever again... in that instant, when their faces burst into his mind, Harry's thoughts cleared...

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM_!"

An enormous silver stag erupted from his wand, the antlers catching the Dementor as it emerged, flinging the wraith away from him. The Patronus tossed the Dementor aside and charged after it, clearing the darkness as the Dementor fled.

Harry gasped, taking a breath as the cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He turned his head and saw the other Dementor leaning over Superman, holding the man's body to the ground. The hero's mouth was open and coming out of it was the brightest light he'd ever seen.

"THIS WAY!" Harry shouted to the stag, scrambling to his feet. "GET IT!"

With a rushing, roaring sound, his Patronus swept in and caught the Dementor by its antlers, chasing it and the darkness away. Superman's soul rushed back into the man's body and he took a deep breath with it.

Harry kneeled at his side, sinking down in relief. His stag returned, hesitating in front of him before dissipating into silver mist.

Like he'd just snapped his fingers, the sun burst into being over their heads and the heat swept over them once more. The normal sounds of the city returned and Harry realised that he was drenched in sweat.

The Muggles around them began crying and shouting in astonishment, even fear. They hadn't seen the Dementors, just felt their affects, but it was still frightening to them. Harry's eyes were trained on Superman, who slowly rose out of unconsciousness.

"What happened?" the man asked, his face white, as he sat up shakily.

"You're going to be alright," Harry reassured. "I promise."

Superman's gaze snapped to him and Harry suddenly had the feeling that he should have run while he still could.

"You saved me." It wasn't a question.

Harry ducked his head in a nod and clenched his fingers around his wand, which was still out in the open, in his hand. Dread flooded through him. "I need to go," he said, quickly getting to his feet. He took one last look at the hero's pale face. "Eat some chocolate."

If the Ministry hadn't arrived yet, they would shortly. Either way, the Dementors were a sign that someone in the magical world knew he was in London — he had to get back to Privet Drive before Voldemort found him.

Harry hurried through the crowd, ignoring Superman's shout behind him, and ran straight for the street and the bus stop from before. If he could find an alley to hide in, he'd be able to throw on his Cloak. That'd hide him long enough for him to get on the bus back. He couldn't chance the Knight Bus, Death Eaters could be watching it...

He ducked into an alley and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak from his pocket. Harry threw it around his shoulders before continuing his journey north. He desperately tried to avoid colliding into the Muggles that hurried along the street and it slowed him down, as he constantly had to press himself up against the buildings to avoid them. At last, he made it to the bus stop, only to note with frustration that the next bus wasn't for twenty minutes.

Harry stood there for a moment, weighing his options, went a flash of blue and red landed next to him. He looked in askance at the hero who calmly met his gaze.

"Harry, wasn't it? We need to talk," the hero said, raising an eyebrow. Superman glanced around at the Muggles who were staring at him peculiarly. "Privately."

Harry took a step back, but Superman was faster. In one movement, he had grabbed the teenager and shot into the air, zooming up high into the sky. Harry gripped the hero tighter as London dropped away beneath them.

The superhero turned and flew, heading straight for the tallest landmark around. Big Ben.

Superman moved so quickly that only those watching the sky would have spotted the blue and red blur that tucked itself on the ledge on the rear side of the large clocktower. Harry was set, somewhat unsteadily, on his feet and he blinked several times to orient himself. Their side of the clocktower faced Parliament and was away from the view of the street and prying eyes. Still, Harry clutched the Invisibility Cloak tighter around him and hoped that his feet stayed covered in the buffeting wind.

"That's better, don't you think?" Superman said, standing casually next to Harry on the ledge. "Sorry about the location, but I didn't think it was a good idea to take you out of the city without your parents' permission."

Harry snapped his eyes to the Muggle hero. "My parents are dead," he said flatly, "and I doubt my aunt and uncle would care." He snorted humourlessly.

"I see," Superman said, an odd tone in his voice. "So about what happened earlier—"

"I can't explain it to you," Harry said, shuffling his feet. "I'm sorry."

Superman frowned. "I know something happened," he persisted. "It got cold, all my strength left me and suddenly I felt like—"

"—You would never feel happy again," Harry finished dully, searching for Superman's eyes. The man seemed to be avoiding his gaze, looking to a spot by Harry's right ear. "Yeah, I know."

"Look," Superman said, putting his hands on his hips, "I need you to tell me everything you know about those creatures. If they can hurt _me_ like that—"

"Wait, you could _see_ them?" Harry interrupted, his eyes wide.

"No," Superman frowned. Harry let out a heavy breath, "They were invisible, like you are now, but I could hear and smell them. What are they?"

The wizard bit his lip. "Dementors," Harry said at last, hoping he wasn't making a big mistake. "Wait a minute, how did you know where I was if you couldn't see me? You're looking right at me!"

The hero grinned. "I can hear your heartbeat," he said, sweeping his gaze over Harry's general position. "I have excellent hearing."

"I'll say," Harry muttered.

"So," the man said seriously, crossing his arms on his broad chest. "How were they able to go invisible? Or you, for that matter? Is it alien technology?"

"Alien?" Harry spluttered. "Is that a thing?"

Superman laughed. "Well, considering that I'm from another planet, I'd have to say yes," he said.

Harry's jaw dropped. "You're an alien," he repeated, blinking slowly.

"Yes."

There was no flicker of amusement or glimmer of teasing in the man's answer. Harry swallowed roughly. "I'm a wizard," he blurted out.

"Magic," Superman said knowingly.

"You know about magic?" the teen asked hopefully.

The hero inclined his head. "I've met a few magicians and magical beings over the last few years," he admitted, "but I don't find myself in their company very often, I have to admit."

Harry was just relieved he hadn't let the cat out of the bag, so to speak.

"So, about these Dementors..." Superman said, getting back on track. "They're magical creatures, I assume?"

"Yeah," said Harry, shuddering slightly. "Nasty ones, at that. As far as I know, only way to get rid of them is with a spell."

Superman frowned. "That sounds pretty dangerous," he commented, "seeing as how most people don't have magic. I have a friend that's pretty smart... I could give him a call—"

"—NO!" Harry shouted.

Superman's eyes went wide and he shifted back a half a step.

"Sorry," the teen said, pitching his voice lower. "It's just... I'm not allowed to tell anyone else, especially Mug— non-magical people, about the wizarding world — it's the law." Harry looked at the man plaintively. "I could go to prison for even having this conversation with you. Please, don't say anything."

Superman pursed his lips grimly before giving a reluctant nod. "I promise I won't say anything to any friends don't already know about magic," he said. "Is that fair?"

Harry bit his lip, thinking it over. "Yeah," he said at last.

"Good." The man's expression smoothed in a smile. "Thank you, by the way," he said, holding out a hand. "I have the feeling that you saved my life."

"Your soul, actually," Harry corrected wryly, shaking the man's hand. "You're welcome."

"Soul?" Superman repeated, blanching a bit. "What—"

His question, however, was cut off by an owl swooping down from nowhere and dropping a letter unceremoniously on Harry's invisible head.

The teen jumped in place and stumbled, his feet slipping off the ledge. Time slowed to a crawl, and he heard his heart thunder with fear as fire raced through his veins. Gravity began to take hold of him, dragging his body down to the ground so many meters away, and Harry grasped desperately for the edge of the building. His hand met cool stone and he gripped it as hard as he could.

The stone held for mere seconds before it crumbled under his fingers and he felt gravity take hold once more... until a strong, warm arm wrapped around his middle and hauled him back up onto the ledge.

Harry stood there in stunned silence for a full five seconds, trying to calm his racing heart and take in the fact that he wasn't a bloody smear on the pavement.

"Are you okay?" Superman asked concernedly, still holding onto Harry as if worried that he would fall off the ledge again at any moment.

The teen slowly nodded his head, shuddering slightly. "Yeah," he gasped at last. "Thanks." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Guess this makes us even," he added, forcing a weak laugh.

Superman grimaced. "It was my fault you were even up here in the first place," he said, holding up the cause of Harry's near-demise. "I'm guessing this is for you?"

Harry swallowed down the bile that was threatening to emerge at the sight of the letter with his name scrawled across the front. His hand unclenched as he went to take it from the hero's hand, when the feeling of grit in between his fingers stopped him.

He slowly opened his fist and saw crumbling pieces of concrete fall through his fingers to hit the ledge. His hand was perfectly fine, no cuts or scrapes from grabbing at the sharp edge of the building... it was if the stone had fallen apart under his grip. Harry glanced at the broken ledge and the large chunk that had been taken out of it.

"Maybe we shouldn't stand here anymore," Harry suggested, stuffing the letter into his pocket. He shook off the uneasy prickly-feeling running down his spine.

Superman followed his gaze to the ledge and nodded, an unreadable look on his face. "We better continue this elsewhere. Wouldn't want you to fall off the building again," he agreed. "Got any ideas?"

* * *

London was completely out of the question. It was already one of the most surveilled cities in the world and Harry's underage magic had likely alerted every wizard that he was roaming through it. So Harry asked Superman to fly them to the one place he knew would be deserted this time of day. The park on Magnolia Road.

Dudley's gang had long-since scared away any local children who may want to play there, so Superman and Harry were alone when they touched down minutes later by the broken swing set. It was well into late afternoon, so Harry easily ducked behind a copse of trees to pull off his Invisibility Cloak, which he stuffed under his shirt once more.

He stepped back out and was immediately examined by Superman's sharp blue gaze.

"You don't have a scratch on you," the man said in the next moment, blinking in surprise.

Harry shrugged. "I think accidental magic may have protected me," he admitted, looking down at his shoes.

"Harry, that column was made of granite and weighed over 2500 tons," Superman insisted. "When it hit you, it shattered like glass." The teen blanched. "Most people would have at least broken some bones or had some internal bleeding after something like that."

"I don't —" Harry started, before abruptly stopping. His hands clenched, speckles of concrete dust still sticking to skin. The teen bonelessly slumped onto the only unbroken swing, his gaze never wavering from his hands. "It must have been magic. It _has_ to be."

Superman silently observed him for a moment before moving in a blur. In the blink of an eye, the large superhero was casually sitting in the swing next to him, the red cape fluttering behind him in the warm breeze.

Harry blinked. The swing Superman was perched on had been laying on the ground mere seconds before. Now, the metal was bent back into shape and the chain had magically reattached itself to the frame.

"How?" the teen murmured, staring at the superhero incredulously.

Superman grinned. "I'm pretty strong," he admitted, "and I have heat vision. A few other powers too."

The wizard's eyes widened. "Okay..." Harry said slowly. "Guess that's why they call you 'Superman'."

The hero chuckled. "I suppose so," he agreed easily, staring out into the trees, looking wistful. "Lois Lane, one of the best reporters in Metropolis, called me Superman when I first arrived in the city. It caught on, but I always felt it was a little egotistical. When I asked her about it, why she used 'Superman', do you know what she said to me?"

"No. What?" Harry asked curiously.

"'Powers don't make the man'," Superman recited. "'It's the heart that reveals your true nature.'"

Harry smiled briefly before turning his gaze to his shoes.

"Harry," Superman said, gently placing a warm hand on the teen's shoulder, "you have a good heart."

"How could you know that?" Harry asked morosely. "We only just met."

"I'd like to think I'm a pretty good judge of character," the hero said lightly, "and don't forget, you saved my life an hour ago."

"Soul," Harry weakly corrected through a small smile.

"Exactly," Superman agreed. "So no matter what's going on, I want you to remember that. Listen to that good heart of yours. Okay?"

Harry nodded. He sat there for a moment before brushing off his dusty hands on his trousers.

The moment his hands were removed, an owl fluttered down to land on Harry's now-dusty knee. Anxiety curled in his belly as the teen realised that he'd completely forgotten about the letter from the Ministry that had precipitated his fall from Big Ben.

Harry's fingers fumbled as he untied the owl's letter and opened it. The hastily written letter was smeared and blotchy in places.

 

> _Harry—_
> 
> _Dumbledore's at the Ministry and he's trying to sort it all out. You need to get to your aunt and uncle's house straight away. If you are in trouble and can't get home, send this letter back with the owl. I will come and get you. Once you get home, DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND._
> 
> _Arthur Weasley_

"Harry, what's wrong?" Superman asked concernedly.

Harry's heart leapt into his throat and he scrambled for the crumpled letter in his pocket.

 

> _Dear Mr. Potter,_
> 
> _We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at forty-five minutes past two in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of several Muggles._
> 
> _The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand._
> 
> _As you have already received an official warning for a previous offence under section 13 of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy and due to the severe nature of this breach, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on August 12th._
> 
> _Hoping you are well,_
> 
> _Yours sincerely,_  
>    
>  Mafalda Hopkirk  
>  IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE  
>  Ministry of Magic

"Is everything okay?" Superman asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

Harry shook his head. "I've been expelled from school," he said hurriedly, getting to his feet. "The Ministry wants to snap my _wand_."

The hero frowned. "Why? Did they figure out that you told me about the Dementors?"

"No, but they'd probably lock me up in Azkaban and throw away the key if they did," Harry laughed hollowly, pacing. "It's because I used the Patronus Charm in London to get rid of the Dementors. It's illegal to use magic in front of Muggles." He ran sweaty hands through his hair, causing it to stick up even more wildly.

"That was in self-defense," Superman pointed out. "Perhaps once you explain the situation to them, they'll understand."

"My headmaster is 'sorting it out'," Harry said, waving the letter from Mr. Weasley in his fist. "I'm not sure how he can, exactly. I used magic in the middle of _London_ with a whole pack of Muggles staring right at me!"

"A lot of people would be soulless if you hadn't done it," Superman reasoned. "If it comes to that, I'm sure the Justice League would be happy to help with the situation."

Harry stopped mid-pace and stared at the hero. "What do you mean?"

"The League's charter was approved by the UN two weeks ago, which allows us to operate in UN-sponsored countries, like the UK. If the League grants you temporary membership, then what you did in London is covered by our charter — meaning the government can't arrest you for it," Superman reasoned.

Harry huffed out a half-laugh, half-snort. Superman shot him a look that made the teen flush with shame. "I appreciate the offer," he corrected, "but I'm not sure that the Ministry of Magic will see it that way. I exposed magic to a bunch of Muggles, breaking one of the most sacred laws in the magical world." The teen sighed, sitting back down on the swing. "Besides, I don't think the Ministry is part of the UN... I don't think the Wizarding World even knows that you or the Justice League exist."

"What do you mean?" The hero's expression was nothing short of perplexed.

"Before this summer, I didn't even know superheroes existed," Harry explained, taking a deep breath. "My relatives hate anything that's not normal, especially magic, so I'm not that surprised that I didn't hear about you lot then. When I turned eleven, I got my letter to Hogwarts and got to leave the Dursleys, but I still didn't hear anything about a man flying without a broomstick. When I came back this summer, a girl at the Oxfam told me about the Justice League. I looked all over the _Daily Prophet_ — the main wizarding newspaper — and they didn't mention it anywhere. I can't imagine them not printing news about super-Muggles if they knew about it."

Superman frowned. "Well that does complicate things," he admitted, tapping his chin contemplatively, "but I already told you that I know a few magicians, right? One of the magicians I know, Zatanna, uses a wand too and she's been doing magic in public for a few years."

"Really?" Harry asked, eyes wide.

The large man nodded. "Yup," he said. "So if it comes to that, I'll call her and see if she can help you smooth things over. It couldn't hurt, right?"

"I guess not," the teen said faintly.

Harry ran his hands through his hair a few times, making it stick straight up, just as another owl swooped down and landed in front of them, a letter in its beak. Harry took the official letter, letting the owl fly off, and tore into it.

 

> _Dear Mr. Potter,_
> 
> _Further to our letter of approximately thirty-five minutes ago, the Ministry of Magic has revised its decision to destroy your wand forthwith. You may retain your wand until your disciplinary hearing on 12th August, at which time an official decision will be taken._
> 
> _Following discussions with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry has agreed that the question of your expulsion will also be decided at that time. You should therefore consider yourself suspended from school pending further inquiries._
> 
> _With best wishes,_
> 
> _Yours sincerely,_
> 
> _Mafalda Hopkirk  
>  IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE  
>  Ministry of Magic_

Harry let out a long breath, most of the huge weight on his shoulders dissipating. Then some of it came back when he reread the last paragraph. They still might expel him.

"What happened?" Superman asked gently.

"Dumbledore," Harry answered. "My headmaster. Whatever he said worked. They aren't going to snap my wand, but I'm suspended from school pending a hearing."

The large man squeezed his shoulder. "They probably just want to hear your version of events," Superman pointed out. "Once they know what really happened, I'm sure it'll work itself out."

Harry offered a weak grin, still unappeased. "I hope you're right."

The hero's eyes examined him. "I'll tell you what," Superman said after a beat, pulling out a small, round device from his belt. "I want you to take this communicator with you. If the Ministry doesn't believe you or if you need anything, even just someone to talk to, I want you to call me." He pressed the device into the palm of Harry's hand. "I'll help in any way I can. I'll even come to your hearing, if you want."

"Thanks," Harry said, his fingers curling around the device.

"You're welcome." Superman smiled.

Another owl flew overhead and landed in front of them. Superman raised a bemused eyebrow as Harry unrolled yet another scroll. It was Sirius's handwriting.

 

> _Arthur's just told us what's happened. Have you gotten back to the house yet? Dumbledore's going to send someone 'round to check on you and make sure you're okay. If you're there, don't leave the house again, whatever you do._

The boy sighed. "It's my godfather," Harry explained. "I better get home or they're going to send out a search party."

Superman nodded. "I'll follow you — from up there —" he added, "just to make sure you get there okay."

Thinking about the Death Eaters probably still looking for him, Harry accepted. "Okay."

"And feel free to call, any time," the man offered, patting Harry on the shoulder. "About anything."

Harry looked up at Superman's genuine smile and felt himself nodding. It was hard not to believe in this man.

The superhero effortlessly lifted himself into the air. "Oh, by the way, I forgot to ask," Superman said with a grin, "why _owls_? Aren't they a little conspicuous for daytime mail delivery?"

Harry chuckled. "I never thought of it that way," he said, cocking his head slightly, "but I honestly have no idea." He shrugged. "That's just magic for you."

Superman laughed and rose above the trees and into the sky, until Harry couldn't see him anymore. He could feel someone watching him, but the hair on the back of his neck didn't rise once.

As he walked, Harry's mind wandered back to his earlier fantasy of fighting Voldemort side-by-side with Superman. With someone like him on their side, it wouldn't take much to defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters, Harry thought with a smile. Unless they brought Dementors. His smile fell. Even Superman was vulnerable to those creatures. It wouldn't take much for Voldemort to figure out the hero's weakness and use it against him. If a wizard wasn't around to stop it... the thought of the kind hero, who'd been so nice to him, losing his soul made his heart wrench painfully.

He had just crossed onto Privet Drive when he saw them. Two figures, one dressed in a brightly coloured pinafore and the other in East African attire and sunglasses. They were standing in front of Number Four, staring up at the house and whispering to each other.

Harry's shoulders tensed and he gripped the handle of his wand with numb fingers. If they were Death Eaters, he'd have to lure them away from the house and keep them distracted until he could escape.

He kept his pace as casual as possible and approached the pair. Then the larger one shifted to the side and he saw a familiar shock of red hair.

"Mrs. Weasley!" Harry exclaimed, letting go of his wand.

"Oh, Harry!" the woman's pinched expression falling at the sight of him. She hurried forward to hug him when the other man stopped her.

"Wait, Molly," his deep voice said. This man was tall and the sun shone off his bald, black head. "We have to make sure it's him first."

"Oh, right," she said, quietly. "Let's see... Harry, dear, how did my boys bring you to the Burrow before your second year?"

Harry grinned. "They flew your family's car, the Ford Anglia," he answered.

"It's him, Kingsley," Mrs. Weasley said, giving Harry a smothering hug. "Oh, thank Merlin you're alright!"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, his voice muffled in her shoulder.

"We should get him inside," Kingsley suggested, steering them towards the door while eyeing the darkening street.

"Yes, of course," said Mrs. Weasley, pulling Harry along with her. The teen moved unresistingly, though he did glance up at the sky once before they went in. There was no sign of Superman; not that there had been before.

"—quite tall, now. I suspect you'll soon be taller than the twins if you keep growing like this," Mrs. Weasley was saying, eyeing him speculatively. "I do hope you're eating enough." Her lips thinned as Harry opened the door to his relatives' home.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, beckoning the two inside. The house was quiet and dark. Harry flicked the switch for the hall, flooding it with light.

"Where might your aunt and uncle be?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "I should probably let them know what's happened."

Harry held back a grimace. "Uncle Vernon's at work and won't be home until after six," he said. "And the car's gone, so Aunt Petunia's probably out shopping or something."

Mrs. Weasley's lips thinned even more with disapproval.

"It seems, then, we have a moment to chat, Mr. Potter," the man, Kingsley, said. "I am Kingsley Shacklebolt, Auror and a friend of Albus Dumbledore's." Harry's ears perked up hopefully. "I need you to tell us what happened this afternoon. After you left Trafalgar Square, Hit Wizards and Obliviators were dispatched, but the Ministry is still trying to sort it all out."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, buying time. Should he tell them about Superman? "I dunno, really. I was going stir crazy here," he said, "and so I took the bus to London." At Mrs. Weasley's admonishing glare, he winced. "I know, it was stupid, but I didn't go to Diagon Alley! I just needed a change of scenery. I sat on a bench in the Square. I'm not sure of the details, but there was an attack of some sort in the National Gallery."

"Death Eaters?" Kingsley asked intently.

"I don't think so." Harry hedged. Should he tell them about Superman? "Seemed like a Muggle thing. Well, the Muggles were running around, panicking, and I saw this little boy. He was lost and crying for his mum. I picked him up to help him find her, when something destroyed a nearby column. It fell on top of us, but I had a little bout of accidental magic that shattered it into pieces," Harry explained.

"Did anyone see you?" Kingsley asked sharply.

Harry shook his head. "When the column broke, there was loads of dust. I doubt anyone but the boy saw anything and he was four," said Harry with a shrug. "No one would believe him."

Kingsley nodded. "Then what happened?" he prompted.

His mind flashed to the Dementor sucking the soul out of Superman's body. "A Muggle helped me find the little boy's mum," he lied, forcing his face into a mask of innocence. "We'd just given the boy to her when the Dementors came."

He shuddered. "There were two of them and they went after me and the Muggle. The whole crowd was affected by them and it got so dark..." He took a deep breath. "I used the Patronus Charm to get rid of them. After I cast it and they went away, everybody started shouting; I realised how much trouble I was in. So I ran straight for the bus back to Surrey," Harry concluded.

"Thank you Harry," said Kingsley. He fixed his steady gaze on the young wizard's. "Is there anything else that you would like to add? Anything you may have forgotten?"

Harry swallowed and shook his head, trying not to look as guilty as he felt.

Kingsley nodded. "Very well," he said. "If that is all, I must be heading back to the Ministry before anyone questions my absence—"

"—Do you know when I'll be able to leave the Dursleys?" Harry blurted out, gazing at them intently. He turned his gaze to Mrs. Weasley. "Ron mentioned that he'd be seeing me soon - that I could maybe stay at the Burrow this summer - but he didn't say when."

As Mrs. Weasley's expression fell, Harry's heart sank to his knees. "Oh Harry dear..." she hesitated. "I don't — I've asked, but Professor Dumbledore said that you needed to stay with your relatives as long as possible this summer. I don't know when you'll be able to come stay with us."

"But I've stayed for over a month already!" Harry protested. "Surely that's enough time? Can't I come with you now?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, her eyes bright. "I want to, but until Professor Dumbledore says it's alright, you must stay here, where you are safe."

Harry's eyes burned with the unfairness of it all, but he refused to let them see how much it hurt. He wasn't about to throw a tantrum like Dudley. "Thanks for coming by to check on me," he said dully.

"Harry..." Mrs. Weasley wrapped him in another tight hug but he shrugged out of it as soon as he could without hurting her feelings. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," the teen said honestly, forcing a smile. "Please tell Ron and Hermione I say hello."

"I will," she promised, patting him on the cheek. Kingsley nodded to him.

Harry showed the two of them to the door and watched them walk to the street and then down towards Magnolia Road. When they were out of sight, he slammed the door and locked it, retreating to his room to brood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is definitely the longest chapter of the fic to date! I hope you enjoyed it. :)
> 
> I really loved writing this chapter. And in case you were wondering, yes I did borrow a few lines from Order of the Phoenix by JK Rowling regarding the dementors. She just put it beautifully, so I didn't have heart to change it (too much).
> 
> Let me know what you think! I've finished chapter four and am currently working on chapter five, which is feeling a little crunchy. This is definitely one of the oddest fics I've written, as Harry's powers aren't going to really show up until mid-school year, so we'll see what happens next lol. I have a long-game planned, but how the near stuff happens is going to be a bit of a surprise to all of us. Cheers!


	5. Interlude: In the Batcave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark compares notes with the World's Greatest Detective.

"Bruce."

The glow of the Batcomputer cast a stark shadow in the dim lights of the cave. Superman hovered just behind the leather chair, his bright cape fluttering behind him.

"Clark," Batman said curtly. "You didn't call."

Superman lightly dropped to the floor. "It couldn't wait," he said.

Bruce raised an eyebrow and turned in his chair, giving the Man of Steel his full attention.

Clark sighed. "I was in Brussels for the UN summit when someone broke into the National Museum in London. It was pretty routine. I responded to the attack and turned the thieves over to the authorities."

Batman's eye brow twitched minutely, the rest of his face blank as marble.

"After the attack, when I was helping some civilians, these creatures showed up…" Clark's voice trailed off. "All of my worst memories flashed before my eyes. People I couldn't save. Kara dying. Krypton exploding." He shook his head. "Those creatures got within feet of me and I was down. They would've taken my soul if Harry hadn't stopped them."

"Harry?" Batman asked, already at the keyboard with a search window pulled up.

"Harry Potter," said Clark, stepping up just behind him. "He was just a kid but he used magic to banish the creatures."

"Did he give them a name?"

"Dementors," Clark chirped, watching Harry's picture and information flash up on the screen.

The human frowned when several searches could not locate information on the creatures. "I'll reach out to our magical contacts in the League," Bruce declared, brow furrowed.

"They were invisible," Clark offered, "but they smelled like rotting meat and their breaths rattled when they inhaled."

Bruce grunted. "What do you know about the boy?"

"He's an orphan and lives with his aunt and uncle," Clark said with a frown. "It's not a good relationship. He has a godfather too. He's strong — I saw Nelson's column fall on him and the thing just shattered into pieces. There wasn't a mark on him."

"Before or after the Dementors?"

"Before."

"Did you see him cast a spell?"

Clark shook his head. "I only saw when it hit him," he explained, "not before."

Bruce typed a note into the report. "How did he stop the Dementors? Chanting? Ritual?"

"He used a wand," said Clark, straightening slightly. "I saw it in his hand when I woke up. He didn't have it out before."

Bruce grunted.

"Also, this weird thing happened when an owl dropped a letter on his head while we were talking," said Clark, trailing off. At Bruce's look, he added, "Yeah, apparently they deliver mail." He shook his head. "Anyway, it scared him and he almost fell off Big Ben."

"You caught him." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah... only after some of the concrete broke off in his hand." Bruce stared at him. "The clock's over a hundred years old, so it could just be a coincidence—"

Bruce typed a bit faster, cataloguing it all.

"It scared him," Clark concluded with a frown, crossing his arms. "He dismissed it as accidental magic, but I think it was more than that."

His friend's eyes turned to him, staring so intently, Clark almost forgot who had the x-ray vision.

"What?"

"Not important." Bruce turned back to the computer. "What else?"

"He has something, a coat I think, that makes him invisible," Clark offered. "He took it off when I took him to a park near his house."

"The one on Magnolia Road, in Surrey?" Batman asked, the map appearing on the screen. "What was his demeanor after the Dementor attack?"

"Worried. Afraid. He said that he was part of a Wizarding World and that it was illegal for him to reveal magic to non-magical people."

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Does his government know about the Dementors?"

Clark nodded. "He's suspended from school and has a hearing in a couple weeks. They tried to expel him, but his headmaster pulled some strings," he reported dutifully. "I offered to go as a witness in his defense. Gave him a communicator to keep in touch."

Bruce snorted and turned back to his search on Harry. "I doubt he'll call," he said flatly. "Your presence might do more harm than good."

"How do you figure?" asked Clark, raising an eyebrow.

"You, despite your powers, are non-magical," Bruce pointed out, his fingers busily clacking keys. "Neither of us have heard of or interacted with the Wizarding World before today, which tells us that this is a reclusive community."

Bruce pulled up Harry's records and highlighted a section under School Enrollments. "After primary school, Harry was registered to Stonewall Academy, the local high school, but never attended. His aunt reported that he had been sent to a boarding school instead."

"The school isn't listed," commented Clark, quickly browsing the records.

"All of his official records stop there," Bruce added. "Vaccinations, dentist appointments... it's like his relatives stopped taking him anywhere after he turned eleven."

"Not that they were consistent at it before," Clark pointed out with a frown as he looked at earlier records.

Bruce grunted. "His aunt and uncle became his legal guardians after the death of his parents in 1981." A newspaper clipping appeared on the screen. "It says a gas explosion killed them, but the police report notes that the investigators couldn't find any accelerant. The gas line was broken, but that could have been from the explosion, rather than the cause."

"Could it have been murder?" Clark asked, crossing his arms worriedly.

"Most likely," Bruce said, eyes narrowing. He pulled up another set of records. "Lily James Potter, formerly Evans, and James Fleamont Potter were his parents. Lily's education profile reads similar to Harry. Registered for the local school and ended up going to a boarding school instead." His eyes flashed over the other records. "Also stopped receiving vaccinations after age eleven."

Clark narrowed his eyes. "Where are his father's records?"

Bruce smiled thinly. "That's where this gets interesting," he said. "There aren't any. Aside from his birth certificate filed by the British government in July 1960, everything else is a total blank." He pulled up the birth certificate and made a noise in his throat. "He was born in January."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "Why did his parents wait seven months to file his birth certificate?"

"The birth was witnessed by a midwife," Bruce read aloud, typing again.

Clark nodded, understanding. "Maybe it was a home birth out in the country?" he suggested. "And the new parents waited a while to file the paperwork."

"Wasn't that the excuse your parents used for you?" Bruce asked wryly, shooting him a look.

The man rolled his eyes. "The fact that it worked proves that there's precedent. Or are you suggesting that Harry's father was an alien?" Clark mocked.

Bruce smirked. "Either way, I doubt that a society so far removed from the rest of the world would react well to outsiders, enhanced or not."

"Harry did say something to that effect," Clark admitted with a frown. "He thought I was joking about being an alien and said he only found out about the Justice League a couple of weeks ago, when he came back from school." He waved a hand. "We're not news in the Wizarding World, apparently."

Bruce grunted absently, ignoring Clark as he typed.

Superman frowned. "I don't like the idea of leaving Harry to face that hearing alone," he admitted. "He saved my life."

"Maybe so," Bruce said, "but either way, you're going to have to wait for him to make the first move."

Clark's gaze refocused on the picture of a scrawny eleven-year-old with taped glasses and a cheeky grin, unhappy and unused to feeling helpless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am sorry that this chapter is so short! It is more of an interlude, as are the next couple of chapters. This crossover is a bit of a slow burn and I didn't want to quote book five for 90% of the next few chapters, so I'll be skipping around a bit until things start changing. I apologize if this makes the story choppy and hard to read (please tell me if it is!) but I would hope that most of you are familiar with OotP and can follow it anyway.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, faved and subscribed to Divided! I really appreciate the nice comments and am pleased to hear you all are enjoying it. I'm having a lot of fun writing it!


	6. Interlude: At Grimmauld Place

Harry sat at the breakfast table, nervously fiddling with the small, round communicator in his hand. It was just large enough to fit into his ear and there were no seams in the shiny metal. If it wasn’t for the lack of holes, it would look just like a fat button. There was a small depression on one side that could be pushed in to turn it on with a soundless click. He was careful not to accidentally press that, in case it sent Superman running to the secret wizard base that was Grimmauld Place.

Worries about the hearing floated through his mind. Should he have called Superman? Harry's hand froze, the communicator's depression glinting in the firelight. The man was fast... perhaps he still had time to call him, ask the hero to act as his witness, to prove that the Dementors were there.

His finger hovered over the button. After he’d arrived and grilled Hermione and Ron, they’d demanded to know what had happened in London.

_“Dad said you’d used a Patronus!” Ron said anxiously._

_Harry nodded. “Dementors, two of them, showed up right in the middle of London,” he explained. “They were about to suck out someone’s soul -- I had to do something!”_

_“Of course!” Hermione said, her bushy hair flopping forward with her nod. “I’m sure they will understand. The Statute of Secrecy has an exemption for that sort of thing!”_

_“Yeah, but will they believe me?” Harry countered morosely. “The Ministry’s been making me out to be a liar and the Prophet’s just gone along with it. This wasn’t just me doing a spell in the Little Whinging -- it was in broad daylight in the middle of Muggle London.”_

_Ron grimaced. “Dad said the Hit-Wizards couldn’t find the Dementors, but that the Muggles did say they felt them before you banished them with the Patronus.”_

_“Can Muggles be witnesses in my defense?” Harry asked weakly._

_Both the boys looked Hermione. “Well, don’t look at me!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “I don’t know.”_

_“I think they modified the Muggles’ memories anyway, Harry,” Ron added. “Couldn’t have them running around saying they saw a glowing white stag in the middle of London, could they?”_

_Harry bit his lip. “What if there was a Muggle that could testify -- one who’s memory wasn’t erased?”_

_His friends’ heads snapped to look intently at him. “What are you talking about, Harry?” Hermione had asked._

_“I wasn’t completely truthful when I told your mum and Kingsley what happened,” Harry admitted, bowing his head, “but I honestly didn’t think they’d believe me if I told them.” He took a deep breath and then looked at Hermione. “When you saw your parents earlier this summer, did you hear about Superman?”_

_Hermione’s brow furrowed. “Who?” she’d asked. “I don’t think so.”_

_“Superman,” said Harry. “You know, the alien superhero who can fly and is really strong and fast? Maybe they mentioned the Justice League?”_

_The young witch shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry, Harry,” she said, “I only had a week or so with my parents before Dumbledore moved me to the Burrow with Ron’s family. It was safer than staying in Oxford, at least until Grimmauld Place was ready for us.”_

_Harry looked down at his lap and let out a frustrated sigh._

_“What’re you talking about mate?” Ron asked, his eyes wide. “What’s the Justice League? There’s a Muggle that can fly?”_

_“Yeah,” Harry said with a grin, “ without a broom. It’s brilliant.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair, flattening it over his scar. “See, when I was in Trafalgar Square, there was some sort of attack and Superman came to stop it. After I rescued the kid, he helped me find the boy’s mum by listening for her, if you can believe it.” He shook his head. “Anyway, it was after we returned the kid that the Dementors showed up. One came after me but the other went after him -- nearly got his soul too. Luckily, I was able to banish them first.”_

_He took a breath. “Of course, by then I knew I was in huge trouble, so I ran and found a place to put on the cloak. I’d made it to the bus stop, but the bus wasn’t there yet, and Superman caught up with me.” Harry laughed at the memory. “He floated down right in front of me, nearly giving me a heart-attack. He then flew us to Big Ben, where he asked about the Dementors and told me that he was an alien.”_

_Hermione and Ron sat there, eyes wide. “Seriously?” Hermione spluttered. “An alien?”_

_“That’s what he told me,” Harry said with a nod. “And, considering all that he could do, I believe him. He flew me back to the park in the Little Whinging, since I’d missed the bus by then, and he offered to come to my hearing. Speak in my defense. He said that because the UK is part of the UN, my actions could be covered by the Justice League charter or something like that.” He pulled out the little communicator button he’d been keeping in his pocket since Superman gave it to him. “All I have to do is press the button and ask him to come.”_

_“Blimey mate,” Ron said hollowly. After a beat, he raised an eyebrow. “Are you having us on?”_

_Harry delivered him a flat look. “Would I seriously come up with a story as far-fetched as that if I was planning on lying to you?”_

_“I have to admit,” Hermione said. “It’s a bit hard to believe. I mean, I believe you, Harry, but I can see why you didn’t tell Mrs. Weasley or Kingsley.”_

_“If you tell the Ministry about this, they’re gonna say you’ve gone ‘round the bend, for sure,” Ron added, “even if Superman shows up. They’re just going to think you’re doing some fancy magic to make it all up.”_

_Hermione nodded, a serious look on her face. “Not to mention what would happen to him if Voldemort got his hands on a muggle superhero.”_

_“That’s what I was thinking,” Harry said, looking down at the communicator. “The Dementors hurt him and even with all his strength, he can’t cast a spell to protect himself.”_

_“Wait, what are you two talking about?” Ron asked, looking between them. “Your hearing is at the Ministry. It’s not like Voldemort’s going to break in to watch it,” he added with a roll of his eyes._

_Hermione threw him an exasperated look. “Yes, but what if someone loyal to Voldemort shows up? Like Lucius Malfoy?” she asked. “He’s close with the Minister. If the wizards at Harry’s trial believe Superman really has powers and is an alien, I doubt that will stay secret for long. The last thing we need is for Voldemort to hit Superman with the Imperious Curse and order him to destroy Hogwarts.”_

_Both boys blanched._

_“Yeah,” Harry said hollowly, remembering how Superman had flown through the wall of the National Museum like it was paper. “That would be bad. Very, very bad.”_

_A tense silence fell in the room, until a hard knock hit the door and all three teens jumped._

_Mrs. Weasley poked her head in. “It’s getting late, dears,” she said, “you all better head to bed. Especially you, Harry. Arthur will be taking you to the Ministry early in the morning when he heads off for work.”_

_“Thanks Mrs. Weasley,” said Harry. “Good night!”_

_Ron and Hermione shot quick wishes to Mrs. Weasley before she shut the door again. Harry turned to his friends._

_“We can’t mention this to the Order,” he said urgently. “About Superman, the Justice League, any of it. Not to anyone. We can’t risk this getting back to Voldemort and I don’t trust Snape any farther than I can throw him.”_

_“Agreed,” Hermione said, Ron nodding along. “But what are we going to do about the trial? If Superman can’t speak in your defense, what are you going to do?”_

_“I’m going to be expelled,” said Harry dejectedly, tucking the communicator in his pocket. “Not even Dumbledore could get me out of this one.”_

_His friends took seats on either side of him, sandwiching the black-haired teen between them. “I’m sure he’s got something planned,” Hermione said encouragingly._

_“Yeah, mate. It’s Dumbledore. If anyone could work out a miracle, it’d be him!” Ron added, nudging Harry with his shoulder._

_Harry’s lips had lifted in a weak grin. “Thanks guys,” he’d said, his smile falling._

He desperately wanted to go back to Hogwarts, to be with his friends, play Quidditch and be at the first home he could remember -- but he couldn’t risk leading Voldemort to Superman. It was too great a price.

His friends had tried to comfort him, but the hopelessness settled in his stomach, turning it sour overnight. Mrs. Weasley set some breakfast in front of him, and Harry tried to nibble at his toast but quickly gave it up as a bad job — his stomach was in so many knots, he felt liable to be sick at any moment. Instead he just played with the communicator in his hand, wondering if it wasn’t too late to change his mind, hoping for a miracle.

Lupin and Tonks were having a quiet conversation on their end of the table, while the Weasleys exchanged words over Mrs. Weasley's fry-up. Sirius sat sullenly in his chair, hands cupped around a mug of tea.

"What's that you've got there, Harry?" Lupin's quiet voice asked.

Harry jumped and quickly closed his fist. "Nothing," he blurted out. His elbow knocked against the table with a loud crack, startling everyone in the kitchen. Looking down, Harry saw a large dent in the wood in the shape of his elbow. His entire face flushed as he leaned forward to cover it with his arms. He threw a weak smile at Lupin's started face. "It's just a button I found in my trunk. Probably fell off one of my old shirts."

The other man smiled thinly and gave a nod. "You'll be alright, Harry," said Lupin. "The law's on your side."

"Exactly," Mr. Weasley agreed, looking over at him. "It'll all be over soon."

Harry numbly went through the motions as Mr. Weasley, Tonks and Lupin tried to get him to think positively and Mrs. Weasley fussed with his hair and clothes. Sirius was the only one whose mood echoed Harry's.

When Mr. Weasley finally stood up and called for him to go, Harry sighed in relief. The waiting was driving him mad.

* * *

 

Harry practically floated back to Grimmauld Place after the trial, despite their run in with Lucius Malfoy. The chorus of cheers from Fred, George and Ginny, chanting “ _He got off, he got off, he got off--_ ” set a massive grin on his face. After Mr. Weasley left to deal with the regurgitating toilet, Mrs. Weasley encouraged them all to sit at the table and eat lunch.

“’Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you,” said Ron, dishing a huge mound of mashed potatoes onto Harry’s plate.

“Yeah, he swung it for me,” Harry said. “He called in a couple Hit-Wizards who modified the Muggles’ memories to report what the Muggles told them. One of them even said he gave some chocolate to a couple children and they immediately felt better.” He smiled. “Kind of a giveaway that Dementors were involved, so it was a done deal then.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged relieved grins with Harry and they dug into the roast chicken Mrs. Weasley placed in front of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am so sorry for the wait everyone! I got majorly caught up with work and the other adulting responsibilities that I totally spaced on this fic. I'm also sorry that this is just another interlude and not a full chapter -- don't be mad at me!! I'm trying not to rewrite OotP in its entirety, so I'll be skipping around to little interludes until things start to pick up steam.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and told me how much they like this so far! I really appreciate reading your comments and messages. Please do let me know what you think and I hope to get the next chapter up soon.


	7. Interlude: Zatanna

**Chapter Six**

The Batmobile roared into the cave, sending its rough growl through the vaulted cavern. It zoomed up the ramp and screeched to a stop in the middle of the round platform. Abreast of the famed car stood a smirking young woman in a top hat.

"You always know how to make an entrance," she commented in an amused tone as the driver jumped out, his cape flaring dramatically.

The low growl carried the echo of the now-silent engines. "You're late." He stormed past her, tension sparking off his shoulders.

"And you're ungrateful," she quipped, following him up the stairs to the massive computer. " _You_ asked _me_ for a favor, remember? I can't just drop everything whenever you need something." She raised an eyebrow and set her hands on her hips. "I've got my own rogues to fight."

Batman grunted and looked at her, his first visual acknowledgement that evening. "What did you find?" he asked smoothly.

"He's definitely _Homo magi_ ," Zatanna said, leaning against the computer. "Or, at least, from a community of people descended from the _Homo magi_. It was hard to get information on them — they don't like outsiders."

Batman grunted, his expression unreadable, until he found what he was looking for on her face. His lips quirked. "You got in."

Zatanna snorted. "Of course I did!" she exclaimed. "I'm a professional." Her tone sobered. "I gotta hand it to Supes though, when he gets into magic, he really dives in it. Your hunch was right; the kid's parents were murdered. They were killed by another _Homo magus_ who, by all accounts, was a psychopath and serial killer."

" _Was_?"

"I'm getting to it. So, the psychopath — I couldn't get his name, they were all calling him "You-Know-Who" — and his henchmen were active in Britain in '70s. They were around for a full decade, nearly unopposed, until he tried to kill the Potters in 1981," Zatanna explained. "He killed the parents without a problem, but when he tried to kill Harry Potter, something happened. Harry survived and You-Know-Who was killed."

"What happened?" Bruce's harsh tone pierced through the thick air of the cave.

Zatanna shrugged. "No one knows, as far as I could tell," she offered. "It's mostly just rumors because the only living witness was barely old enough to talk."

Batman grunted. "What about the Dementors?" he asked abruptly.

"No one knows where they come from, but they're immortal creatures of the dark that can devour a living thing's soul," Zatanna explained resignedly, used to Bruce's mannerisms. "In close proximity, their victims are overcome with spontaneous depression."

"Describe it," Batman ordered.

"Dementors generate fog and a chill wind that surrounds them. They draw out happiness by breathing, so people are left feeling like they will never be happy again.  Chocolate apparently helps get rid of the depression effect. If they get close enough, the Dementors can suck a soul out of a person's body, leaving nothing but an empty husk behind." Zatanna frowned. “The victims die within days of losing their soul."

Batman frowned. "There's no way to control them?" he asked incredulously.

Zatanna shook her head. "Not that I could find. A specific spell is the only way to banish them. There's nothing that can kill them," she said. "They're used to guard maximum security prisons, so the British government must have found some way to do it."

Batman's cynical grunt echoed throughout the cave.

"Anything else?" Batman asked impatiently.

The magician rolled her eyes. "Not much. Just that the British magical newspaper has been running a smear campaign against the kid. Best I could figure, he said something they didn't like and now they're getting back at him." Zatanna shook her head. "Before I could find out more, an old woman got suspicious and I had to get out of there. Sorry I don't have more."

Batman stood in one smooth movement, his cape falling like liquid to hang at his ankles. "Thank you," he said quietly, eyeing her with a softened gaze. "Stop by the kitchen before you leave. Alfred made a batch of cookies earlier today."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Zatanna said cheerfully, squeezing his shoulder gently. "Take care, Bruce."

With a twirl of her arms and a few words, Zatanna disappeared with a crack, leaving Batman to brood in his cave, alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry about the super short chapter! I know this is paltry compared to what I normally post, but this was always going to be a quick info dump chapter for Batman. Those of you that predicted Zatanna would show up, nice job! We may be seeing more of the DC magical folk in the coming story, but most of them have their own conflicts to deal with. Voldemort is Harry's problem, so don't expect them to play a major part. Thank you to all of the people who have reviewed, faved or followed the story so far! I look forward to seeing what y'all think about this chapter. I'm hoping the next one will also be up fairly quickly. We're almost at the end of our interludes before the full story kicks back up again. Thanks for reading!


	8. Interlude: The Hogwarts Express

**Chapter Seven**

Stepping outside into the sun after weeks of being cooped up in Grimmauld Place was like being able to breathe again after being suffocated. His poor sleep the night before melted away as the warm rays caressed his face. Sirius in his dog form, jumped and frolicked, equally as happy with the calm breeze and sunny sky.

Harry easily ignored Mrs. Weasley's pursed lips and allowed a deep breath of fresh air to fill his lungs. They made it to the train platform with minutes to spare, but Mrs. Weasley still fretted until Lupin and Moody showed up with the others.

In the subsequent rush to board the train, Harry was hugged twice by Mrs. Weasley, got a lick on the face from Sirius and hefted at least three trunks into a train compartment. It was only as the train sped away and he watched a big, black dog chase the train that he let out a sigh of relief. He was on his way home.

"He shouldn't have come with us," Hermione said as her brow pinched worriedly.

"Oh lighten up," said Ron, "he hasn't seen daylight for months, the poor bloke."

Just the thought made Harry shiver with unease. He watched Fred and George peel off before turning to his friends. "Shall we go and find a compartment, then?"

"Er—“ Ron trailed off.

"We're — well — Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage," said Hermione, shrugging awkwardly.

"Oh. Right. Fine," Harry said robotically.

His friends reassured him that they'd come by later to join them, but Harry felt a sharp pang of loneliness as they left him behind and walked toward the front of the train.

"Come on," said Ginny, "if we get a move on, we'll be able to save them places."

"Right," Harry agreed, picking up Hedwig's cage and his trunk.

Each of the compartments they passed were full of students who pointed and whispered when they saw him. Harry ducked his head, trying to ignore them and not think about what they thought about him now that the _Prophet_ was having a go at him. As they neared the end of the train, they spotted Neville Longbottom, who was huffing and trying to hold onto Trevor the toad.

"Hi Harry... Hi Ginny... Everywhere's full... I can't find a seat..."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked, peering into the compartment. "There's room in this one, there's only Loony Lovegood in here—"

"I don't want to disturb anyone," Neville mumbled, red flushing his cheeks and ears.

Ginny waved him off. "Hi Luna," she said, after opening the compartment door, "is it okay if we take these seats?"

Luna's protuberant eyes and slightly daft clothing gave her an air of dottiness that Harry found both baffling and entertaining. She gave a brief nod, so the three piled in.

Harry lifted his trunk into the empty rack with barely a grunt and then moved to help Neville, who was struggling with his. The boys then lifted Ginny's for her, placing it on top with Hedwig's cage.

"Thanks Harry," Neville murmured gratefully, rubbing his shoulder. "I swear, those things get heavier every year."

"I hear ya, mate," Harry sympathized.

The teens settled in, chatting about their summers and it all was going splendidly... until Neville brought out his birthday present.

" _Mimbulus mimbletonia,_ " he said proudly.

The squat, grey, cactus in a pot was covered in pulsating boils instead of spines. Harry, for the life of him, couldn't imagine why Neville would want a plant like this.

"Does it — er — do anything?" Harry asked.

"Loads of stuff!" Neville said proudly. "It's got an amazing defensive mechanism — hold Trevor for me…"

Neville pulled out his quill and prodded the plant — and then the world seemed to slow down. Harry watched Neville blink, his eyes slowly closing. The plant shivered, the motion starting from where Neville touched it, pushing out in ripples to every spine and boil. The round boils contracted and then opened. Thick, stinking, dark-green jets of liquid erupted with the force of a broken pipe but none of the speed....

And then Harry blinked and time seemed to snap back into place, just in time for him to take a blast of goo to the face. It smelled like rancid manure.

Harry spat out a mouthful onto the floor as Neville apologized, assuring them that the foul-smelling substance wasn't dangerous.

"Oh ... hello Harry," said a nervous voice. "Um... bad time?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I felt bad yesterday's chapter was so short, so I figured it'd be nice if I posted Chapter 7 today. We are just about done with the Interludes and will soon continue with the regular story. Thank you to all those who reviewed yesterday!


End file.
